


just one step from heaven, one step from paradise

by fonulyn



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I'd tag huddling for warmth but it's more Leon being a little shit, M/M, Piers Nivans Lives, Piers is alive and happy and healthy, Porn with Feelings, Sex Is Fun, Smut, Vacation, and warming his hands under Piers' shirt, that they deserve, there's a fireplace okay and a rug and they make full use of it, they're MARRIED U GUYS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27943304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fonulyn/pseuds/fonulyn
Summary: Piers barely manages to stand up from his crouch before there’s a solid body pressed against his back, Leon’s arms winding around his middle. Instinctively he leans into it before his brain registers that aside from nice it is alsoreally fucking cold. Especially as Leon unceremoniously stuffs his hands up Piers’ shirt.“Holy fuckingshit, your hands arefreezing!” Piers squirms, trying his best to get away, but all Leon does is push his hands even further underneath the shirt, effectively trapping Piers in place. With a sigh Piers gives in, even as it sends an almost violent shudder through him. “How come you don’t wear gloves,” he whines, allowing his head to fall backwards onto Leon’s shoulder.“I did wear gloves,” Leon hums, burying his icy cold nose into Piers’ neck. It results in another forcible shudder but this time Piers manages to stay still instead of squirming away, as much as his brain is screeching at him to get away from the cold.--Or the one wherein Piers warms Leon up and they enjoy their vacation.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Piers Nivans
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	just one step from heaven, one step from paradise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LovelyLeons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyLeons/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY THEO! 💖💖💖
> 
> here have the schmoopiest fluffiest smuttage. seriously. call your dentist first. it's _that_ syrupy. 
> 
> I hope you like this and I love you okay 💖

“C’mon now,” Piers says, trying to coax the flames back to life. He’s crouched in front of the open fireplace, and he’s spent the past half an hour trying to make an actual fire, each passing minute making him feel a little bit pathetic as he never thought it was _this hard_. He’s been camping with his father, goddamnit, he’s built fires before. There must be something wrong with the fireplace, if it’s this hard to actually get anything to properly burn in it.

Piers is nothing if not stubborn though and he keeps poking and prodding at the fire until it begins to do what he wants, flames slowly licking up the firewood before finally crackling contently, radiating a warm glow. Piers reaches out his hands to warm them up a little closer to the flames, and he can’t help but grin to himself in triumph. 

It still feels a little like someone else’s life, though. The cabin they’ve rented is small, the bedroom barely fits the double bed that’s somehow been crammed into it and the kitchen is cramped enough that it takes real maneuvering if they want to both be in there at the same time. The living room has the big fireplace and comfortable couch set to face it, a deer skin rug taking up the floor space between them. 

It’s like straight from some cheesy romance flick, not that Piers watches those or anything. Really, he doesn’t. He’s just _happened_ to notice.

The door opens and closes behind him, and although it all happens within seconds he still hears the wind howl outside and feels the cold draft. It’s been storming out there for hours now, snow piling higher and higher, and they’ve been stubbornly holed up inside with no intention of going out there. Technically the place has electric heating, too, so going out for firewood wasn’t strictly a necessity. Yet when Leon had announced he’d do exactly that, Piers hadn’t argued. A living fire was cozy. 

…okay and romantic. 

Leon drops the armful of firewood into the wooden box next to the fireplace, quickly stripping off his coat and discarding it to the side. Piers barely manages to stand up from his crouch before there’s a solid body pressed against his back, Leon’s arms winding around his middle. Instinctively he leans into it before his brain registers that aside from nice it is also _really fucking cold_. Especially as Leon unceremoniously stuffs his hands up Piers’ shirt.

“Holy fucking _shit_ , your hands are _freezing_!” Piers squirms, trying his best to get away, but all Leon does is push his hands even further underneath the shirt, effectively trapping Piers in place. With a sigh Piers gives in, even as it sends an almost violent shudder through him. “How come you don’t wear gloves,” he whines, allowing his head to fall backwards onto Leon’s shoulder. 

“I did wear gloves,” Leon hums, burying his icy cold nose into Piers’ neck. It results in another forcible shudder but this time Piers manages to stay still instead of squirming away, as much as his brain is screeching at him to get away from the cold. 

Piers huffs out a laugh. “Bullshit,” he says, grinning as he tilts his head and tries to look at Leon. The older man is still hiding his face against his neck though, even snuggles a little closer, so he doesn’t quite manage. “You’re lucky we’re already married because this would absolutely be grounds for a breakup.” As Leon’s cold hands trail lower onto his stomach Piers just pushes his own hands under his shirt too, attempting to rub some warmth back into Leon’s fingers. 

Again Leon just hums, a touch more thoughtfully than before. “You could still divorce me,” he points out, the words slightly muffled because he refuses to move his head. At least his nose is beginning to warm up and it doesn’t feel like he’s frozen solid anymore. Piers counts that as a win. 

“Yeah, no,” Piers says. He aims for stern, lands somewhere between amused and ridiculously smitten. “I don’t think I can.”

Leon’s fingers are beginning to work properly, warmed up enough for the blood to flow, and he pulls his hands away only to turn Piers around in his arms. He doesn’t let him get any further though, keeps their bodies pressed together, and the kiss he initiates is not exactly chaste. When it ends, both of them sufficiently breathless, he flashes a crooked grin. “Think you could warm me up?”

“What did you have in mind?” Piers asks with feigned innocence. He tilts his head slightly, hums as he pretends to consider it. “We have wine.” He nods towards the bottle of red wine he’d set on the small table next to the couch, along with the two disposable cardboard cups that weren’t exactly the pinnacle of romance but infinitely more handy. Especially knowing the two of them. They would’ve ended up with glass shards in very unfortunate places if he’d opted for the fancy crystal glasses. 

Leon laughs, the throaty, low laugh that means he’s relaxed and happy. The one that still makes Piers’ heart skip a beat like he’s in a dumb romcom, the one that makes him feel damn choked up with all the emotions swirling within him. “Wine sounds good,” Leon agrees, tugging on the hem of Piers’ shirt slightly. As much as Piers knows he wants it off, he ignores that, stepping away. 

They settle on the floor on the rug, stretch out their feet closer to the fire as they lean back against the couch. It’s nice, unhurried and comfortable, and neither of them moves further than to add some more firewood into the flames to keep them alive. It’s been way too long since they last got a vacation longer than two consecutive free days, even longer since they took the chance and went anywhere, and hiding away in their little cabin almost feels like being in a parallel universe where they have nothing but time. 

After a while Piers opens another bottle of wine, but they barely manage to get it started before they’re distracted. Leon kisses Piers first, shuts him up mid-word as he’s ranting about the flight they took, and just like that Piers forgets everything he’d been about to say. The wine is forgotten, too, the cups abandoned on the floor, as Leon practically pushes Piers down onto the rug and kisses him harder. 

They’re giddy with the wine, but even more drunk on each other, and spend a small eternity making out like the fools they are. Until Leon shifts, stretches his foot out a little too far, and accidentally kicks the half full bottle of wine over with a loud clatter. 

Breathless, they spring apart, staring at the offending bottle for a second before Leon’s brain catches up with the situation and he scrambles to grab it. “Fucking hell,” he groans, reaching to set the bottle on the small table next to the couch. “Way to ruin the fucking mood.” He’s frowning, stumbles a little as he gets up and takes the few steps into the tiny kitchen to find a rag to clean up with. 

“C’mon,” Piers chuckles, breathless still, as he sits up and props his arms on his knees. “It’s not that big of a deal.” He arches an eyebrow as their eyes meet, unable to hold back his grin. “Remember the time you pulled a muscle in your thigh right in the middle of fucking me? _That_ was way more unfortunate than this.”

“Don’t remind me,” Leon says and scowls. He’s clearly holding back a smile, though, even if he hides it as he ducks down to wipe the wine off the floor. “Besides, you’re the one who threw up when I took my shirt—”

“ _C’mon_ ,” Piers honest-to-god whines. “I was nervous! …and possibly had a couple of drinks too many to psych myself up for the date with the _legendary agent Kennedy_.” He still remembered that night, how excited he’d been, how thrilled about the opportunity, how disbelieving that Leon _wanted him_ , and most of all, how embarrassing it had been when they’d gotten into Leon’s bedroom only for Piers to throw up all over the carpet. After that night he’d never imagined they’d end up _here_. Not only in a cabin getaway just the two of them but _married_.

Meanwhile Leon cleaned up the mess he’d created, and moved over to add more firewood, before he turns to face Piers properly again. “Legendary my ass,” he huffs, grinning. 

Piers lifts his chin, as if in a challenge. “Yeah, your ass _is_ pretty legendary.”

“You want a piece of it?” Leon asks, shameless, as he already grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head. He’s wearing layers, like he always does when it’s even a touch colder – he says he did his time in Spain and never wants to be as cold and miserable again – and he gets rid of all of them in one go. 

Piers leans back, props himself up on his elbows while sprawled on the rug. “If you seriously need to ask, I don’t think you know me as well as I thought you did.” He raises a hand and makes a vague ‘go on’ gesture. “Pants?”

Laughing, Leon thumbs the button open, stepping closer as he slides down the zipper. He doesn’t quite make a show out of it but he does keep his movements slow, knowing what the fluidity of his movements always does to Piers. The pants get discarded onto the couch soon enough, and he doesn’t even spare a single thought on the open curtains. They’re in the middle of absolutely nowhere anyway. 

Wordlessly he crouches down, then, reaches over to brush his fingers over Piers’ cheek until he can cup his jaw in his palm. The kiss that follows is nothing short of hungry, all of the pretense gone, even as it ends up being far too short to Piers’ liking. Leon is still smiling, his lips reddened, the fire reflecting in his eyes, and Piers doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so beautiful in his life. 

Again Leon pushes his hands underneath Piers’ shirt but this time the touch is warm, his fingers dancing up Piers’ ribs as he slides the fabric up. Helpfully Piers sits up straighter so that the shirt can be slid off him, and as soon as it’s gone he’s rewarded with another one of those filthy, slow kisses. A shiver runs down Piers’ spine and it’s got nothing to do with cold. The cabin is pleasantly warm thanks to the fire, maybe bordering on too warm, but every single one of the slow touches draws more shivers from him. 

After all of these years together it’s almost ridiculously easy for them to fall in step with each other. The moment they’re both entirely naked Leon crawls back into Piers’ lap, leans down to keep kissing him. The kisses start as slow and teasing, only to turn into shorter, more heated ones in between ragged gasps as Piers meticulously fingers Leon open. They don’t even need to get up to fetch the lube, it’s right there on the couch. Leon would call it amazing foresight, Piers would call it laziness, as they’d left it right there in the morning. 

By the time Leon is shaking over Piers, barely able to kiss him back with his slack mouth, his eyes screwed shut as he tries to rock back against the three fingers pressed inside of him. “C’mon,” he breathes out against Piers’ lips, voice cracking as he goes on, “let me.”

Even if they did this a million times Piers doesn’t think he could ever get used to how gorgeous Leon looks when he’s wrecked like this, beside himself with the building sensations and need. His eyes are dark with need, pupils blown, and he somehow manages to hold Piers’ gaze the entire time he sinks down onto his cock. Only when they’re connected as deeply as possible, ass to hips, Leon lets his eyes fall shut for a second to collect himself.

Piers swallows hard, sends a quick thank you to fate or lady luck or whoever the hell it was that let him have this, and grabs Leon’s hips tight. Together they build up a rhythm that’s so familiar for them and yet at the same time always new, always like the first time, and let themselves be washed away by it. 

Then there’s the kissing. Piers has never in his life met someone who enjoyed kissing as much as Leon does, and who is he to complain about it. He cradles the back of Leon’s head in his palm, kisses him as if his life depends on it, nips on his bottom lip and tilts his head to make the next one deeper for a change. And Leon is like liquid, molten sin in his arms. 

The first telltale sign of Leon’s orgasm is the way his breath hitches, the little sound almost like a mewl that pushes its way from the back of his throat. His movements falter, his hips stuttering, and still tries to roll his hips down to get more of the sensations. Piers rewards him for the attempt by snapping his hips up the best he can, two, three, four times before Leon is coming with an outcry between them. 

Leon goes even more boneless as he shakes apart with the force of his climax, slumps heavily against Piers’ chest. Piers stills in his movements, only brings his hands up so he can almost soothingly run them down Leon’s back and his sides, touch his arms and his neck, brush his fingers over his cheek. Seeing Leon like this always feels like witnessing something holy, something almost forbidden. 

Eventually Leon’s breaths calm, and he leans down to scrape his teeth over Piers’ neck. “Go for it,” he breathes right into Piers’ ear, and that’s all the permission Piers needs. He plants his feet against the floor and snaps his hips upward, buries himself into that perfect body time and time again. His hands are on Leon’s hips and he pulls him down against every thrust, relishing in the way Leon shivers and gasps with every single movement. He knows Leon is almost too sensitive for this right now, but at the same time he knows how much Leon enjoys this anyway, so he doesn’t even try to hold back. 

The orgasm takes Piers almost by surprise, punching through him, toe-curling in its intensity. He doesn’t even notice it at first when his foot slips on the floor and he kicks at the table, hard enough to make it wobble. Only when he registers the distant sound of glass shattering through his own – admittedly world-shattering – bliss, he realizes what’s happened. He lets his head fall back, hitting it almost too hard on the floor, and breathes out a “Well, _fuck_.”

The reaction is instantaneous as Leon bursts out laughing, almost hiccupping with it, like it’s the most hilarious thing he’s ever witnessed in his entire life. He buries his face into Piers’ neck to hide his expression but that does nothing to stifle the snorts of laughter, and when Piers reaches up to slap his ass reproachfully it only makes Leon laugh harder. 

“I’m sorry,” Leon apologizes as he finally pulls back and straightens a little, meeting Piers’ eyes. All it takes is an arched eyebrow from Piers and he amends, “okay, I’m not. You’ve got to admit that was funny.”

“I don’t need to admit anything,” Piers huffs, but as much as he tries to look put out about it there’s no helping the grin that’s already tugging at his lips, and he gives in a second later to let it break free. “You’re such an asshole.” 

Leon hums, practically radiating happiness. “Should’ve thought about that before you married me. Too late now.” He leans in for another kiss, one he’s still grinning into, and takes his time with it too. Only when he’s had his fill he pulls back, eyes closed as he lets out a content sigh. “Let me get that cleaned up. Then,” he opens one eye, his smile widening, “we can do this again.”

It’s the best vacation Piers has ever had.


End file.
